Betty and Archie had been having this argument ever since their new neighbour had moved in next door. Betty thought he should welcome the new guy into the community. Archie told her that the guy gave him the creeps - something about the doleful, dark-eyed stare and the fact that he was the only one on the block who didn't fly a Confederate flag from his house. Betty reminded Archie that he felt awkward after they got married and first moved into the neighbourhood - he didn't know the proper height for the grass in the yard, for instance, until Bill took him aside and explained things to the new guy.
Archie unenthusiastically walked over to the tall, thin man in the white robes with the swarthy complexion and long salt and pepper beard. The man seemed to be standing in the middle of his back yard, staring intensely at...what, exactly? Archie couldn't tell. He didn't especially want to talk to the man, but he wanted to argue with Betty even less. Leaning on the white picket fence between their yards, he asked, "Hey, Abou, how's it hangin'?"
Abou shook his head, as if shaking off a trance, and, in a low, serious voice said, "Death to the slavering she-devil bitch America and her allies!"
"Yeah, about that," Archie said, wearily. "You know, you're not going to make a lot of friends in this neighbourhood with that whole 'Death to America' shtick, right?"
"The infidels will pay with their blood for invading our sacred lands!" Abou spat out.
Archie sighed. "I'm trying to be a good neighbour here," he said, "but you gotta meet me halfway. Don't you want to fit in?"
"We have withstood the onslaught of thousands of years," Abou replied, his venom unabated. "We don't have to fit in. We only have to wait."
"Yeah. Okay. Well, good luck with that," Archie said to himself as he turned to walk away. He froze when he heard the unmistakable click of a gun. He slowly turned back to see Abou pointing a pistol, which must have been secreted somewhere in his robes, directly at Archie's head.
"Okay," Archie said. "You don't really want to do this."
"I do not?" Abou asked. "Why would I not?"
"My wife," Archie told him. "Anything happens to me, she'll come after you with a righteous fury. She's something of a gun nut."
This interested Abou. "A gun nut?" he asked. "Exactly what kind of gun?"
"Oh, the usual," Archie stated. "We own a couple of 38s, some 45s. We've got a few rifles - the scopes are killer - and, the pride of our collection, an Uzi."
"No!" Abou couldn't believe it.
"Oh, yeah," Archie proudly insisted. "This is America - you can get any kind of gun you want."
Abou lowered his pistol. "May I see this Uzi of yours?" he asked, envy creeping into his voice.
Archie thought about this for a moment. "Tell you what," he eventually answered, "you come over Saturday night for dinner, and after we'll go down to the basement for a little show and tell. What do you say?"
Abou frowned. Perhaps he sensed a trick. Perhaps he had a limited repertoire of expressions. "Why do you have so many guns?" he wearily asked.
"To protect us from the Yankees," Archie answered.
"I do not understand," Abou said.
"The Yankee aggressors in Washington," Archie explained, gaining passion with every word. "They want to take away our hard-won liberties and force a homosexual, baby-killing...French agenda on us. I remember Waco. If they come for me, I'm prepared to fight to the death against the northern carpetbaggers! They'll have to pry my freedom from my cold, dead fingers!"
"This is exactly what I have been talking about!" Abou, clapping his hands in delight, stated.
"Heh," Archie responded. "I guess it kind of is, ain't it?"
"Archibald Andrews," Abou pronounced, "I believe you are a man I can do business with. I will come to dinner with you on Saturday night!"
"Good man!" Archie enthused.
"And, after, we will see the guns, yes?"
"Absolutely!" Archie thrust his outstretched hand across the fence towards Abou, who looked at it with distaste.
"Please," he lowered his voice and said. "People may be watching."
Archie shrugged. It was a start.